


Between Consenting Adults

by D13D13D13



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Doggy Style, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D13D13D13/pseuds/D13D13D13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie discovers that Haymitch has a kink and encourages him to explore it. (Set before the events of the hunger games. Hayffie. Daddy!kink.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Consenting Adults

**Author's Note:**

> I've always had this HC that Effie was like way younger than Haymitch. Like at least ten or fifteen years younger. So given that huge age gap, what could be more natural than a little daddy kink? ;) Please read and review. Your reviews give me life!!

“I’m too fucking old for this,” Haymitch pants as he pulls her thigh between their chests.

Effie doesn’t roll her eyes because it’s not ladylike but she would like very much for Haymitch to stop complaining and start...well, fucking her. “Come on, daddy, start moving,” she jokes, grabbing his shoulders.

He freezes above her for a moment, and she worries that she’s made a terrible mistake. He’s older than her by almost fifteen years but surely he knows that she’s joking. She had tried to sound sexy and teasing when she said it, but maybe she missed the mark. She’s just about to apologize when he rams into her, taking her breath away. Her fingers flutter against his shoulders as he pounds into her. 

She drops her left hand between her legs and begins to rub her clit. The change in Haymitch is remarkable. His mouth hangs open and his breath is coming out in harsh pants. His neck muscles are taut with exertion and he’s more vigorous than she’s ever seen him. She wraps one arm around his chest and pulls herself close to him. “Oh, daddy,” she moans in his ear. He slams into her once more, and a string of curses interspersed with her name falls from his lips. She reckons he must be done and picks up the pace against her clit.

But he isn’t done. Usually he only lasts a matter of seconds, but he keeps thrusting in and out of her. She must own that she’s a little surprised by his stamina. When the last of his orgasm is finished, he rolls off of her with no regard for her at all. She frowns at this move–she’s worked hard the last three years to teach him not only to last but to make sure she finishes.

This thing, this daddy thing has her intrigued though.

Neither of their tributes had made it past the cornucopia this year. Despite what Haymitch had told them, they’d ran right for it and both were killed. That was how Haymitch had ended up in her bed in the first place. She’d teared up a little, he’d shouted and then they’d kissed a lot before stumbling into bed. 

This year’s games are going to be painfully long. Theirs are the only tributes to have died on the first day. Everyone else seems to be doing a good job of avoiding each other–very narrowly in the case of the tributes from seven and five who are allies, and the careers. Haymitch and Effie only watch the broadcast and charm sponsors as much as strictly necessary. As soon as they can, they slip away and into her bed where they can forget the horror.

And where Effie can develop her new theory. As they’re kissing and touching, she calls him daddy and he surges against her. On the last day of the first week, he calls her his little girl and practically runs out of the room after they finish. He doesn’t really speak to her for the next three days. If they’re in the sponsor’s lounge, he’ll respond to her questions and he waits to leave with her. But as soon as he can, he breaks away and sulks in his room. It’s a terrible waste of lingerie. She puts on a new set every night and he never comes out to look at them.

On the morning of the fourth day, she brings him a breakfast tray, complete with a tea cup full to the brim with whiskey. She sets it down on his bedside table and throws a pillow at his chest, jumping back quickly so that she’s far out of his reach. She still has a neat little scar just below her right elbow from their first year together. “We need to talk,” she says after he finishes swinging his knife.

“Don’t fucking want to talk,” he replies, his chest heaving.

She sets the tray down on his lap. “That’s fine then. I’ll do the talking and you’ll do the listening,” she snaps. He glares at her and maybe there was a time when she would’ve been scared but not anymore. “You have a kink,” she says, pushing the whiskey toward him because he’s more difficult to deal with when he’s sober and hungover, “And I think we should explore it.”

He stops, the tea cup shaking in his hands halfway to his mouth. “What’re you talking about, a kink?”

“You like it when I call you daddy,” he makes a noise of protest but she continues, “And you like calling me your little girl.” 

“And now you think I’m some sort of Capitol freak? You think I want to fuck little girls,” his voice is low and dangerous when he says this.

Effie tamps down the urge to roll her eyes at him. She hooks a finger under his chin and says, “Listen to me. I don’t think you’re a freak,” she pauses at the distastefulness of such a word, “but I do think you want to play the protector, the teacher. I think you’re older than me and you’d like to be the adult. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m open to playing the innocent girl. It could be a lot of fun.” She leans across the tray and gives him a peck.

“Just so you know, I...like you the way you are. You’re okay for a Capitol. This,” he makes a vague gesture, “Isn’t...it isn’t about what we’re doing.”

She can’t help but smile at his awkwardness. “I know, I have kinks too. And just to be clear, we’re both consenting adults and well past eighteen. I’m not confused about what you like. And for the record, I’d prefer you a little more sober but I do like you the way you are too.”

He sets his cup down, the trembling in his fingers seems to have lessened. “So what now?” he asks, seemingly apprehensive. 

“Now I am going to go shopping for something more suited to tonight’s activities. And you are going to eat your breakfast and go easy on the alcohol until I return. Oh, and we need a safeword in case it gets too intense,” she says casting her eyes about for something, “How about toast?” She picks a piece of toast off his tray and bites into it.

He snatches it away from her with an odd look on his face, “Fine.” He takes an even larger bite of the toast and she can’t help the fondness that wells in her chest, almost drowning the annoyance at his bad manners. She stands and kisses his forehead, “I’ll see you tonight.” He salutes with the toast before turning his attention to the eggs.

She can tell by his breathing that Haymitch isn’t actually asleep, he’s just laying in bed waiting. She stands in the darkness of his room for a minute, not making so much as a peep. Then in her softest, sweetest voice, she calls out, “Daddy?” He doesn’t respond. “Daddy?” she repeats. Still no answer. “Dad-dy?” she says in a sing-song voice.

“What?” Haymitch snaps.

Effie stops herself from snapping back. She’s a scared little girl who wants her daddy. “I’m sorry, Daddy. But I can’t sleep. I’m scared,” she says.

He turns on the light, mouth open as if he’s about to say something until he gets a look at her. Then his jaw drops, he throws the covers off of his body, slams the bottle of whiskey he’d been holding on the bedside table and sits on the edge of the bed. She looks good. She knows she looks good. Her hair is divided into two pigtails, she’s barely wearing any makeup at all, she barefoot, she’s clutching a large teddy bear and she’s wearing a tiny cotton nightgown with little straps. She has carefully pulled one strap down so that her nipple and half of her breast are exposed to him. When she had looked in the mirror in her room, she hadn’t been sure if the effect was right or not, but judging by his reaction, she hit her mark. She’s careful to make her smile sweet instead of triumphant. “Come here, sweetheart,” he says, beckoning her.

His legs fall open as she approaches and she steps between them, pretending not to see that he is starting to get hard. “There’s my sweet girl,” he says, reaching up and cupping the back of her head. “Why are you scared, princess?”

She can’t help the flush that spreads across her cheeks at the gentleness of the gesture. She shakes her head. “You don’t know?” he asks. His voice is rough but his tone is gentle. She shakes her head. He trails his hand down one of her pigtails, over her breast bone, around the swell of her breast and finally, rubbing the backs of his fingers on the underside of her exposed breast.

“Effie,” he says in a warning tone that is at once stern and kind, “What have I said about letting your little tits out?” She could get used to that tone. She lets out a little whimper as she imagines him using it as he spanks her or makes her crawl to him. She flushes a little more as she realizes that she likes this.

“Don’t do it?” she guesses.

He nods and pulls the cup of the nightgown back over her breast. The lace on the edge rasps against her nipple and she gasps. “You like that?” he asks, pulling the lace taut over her sensitive areola and rubbing it back and forth. A flame of desire flickers low in her belly.

She can only nod in response. “You know there are other ways daddys can make your tits feel good. You want to see?” he says, continuing to rub the fabric across her breast.

“Yes, please,” she replies, smiling down at him. He reaches up, grabs her nape and pulls her down for a quick kiss. Before she can react, his lips are on her breast, dragging wet lace against her nipple. She moans and he scrapes his teeth over the lace. Her head falls to her chest, heavy with pleasure. He starts on her other breast with his mouth, keeping at the first with his fingers.

“Daddy,” she moans, threading her fingers through his hair. The flame in her belly is spreading rapidly, there’s a flush creeping up her chest now and her inner muscles have started to clench. She arches against him, rubbing her thighs together in a desperate bid to relieve some of the tension building there. He sucks hard on one breast and pinches her nipple too hard between his fingers. She means to chastise him but instead, a bolt of pleasure rips through her and she gasps and trembles as she’s flooded with wetness. Haymitch looks up at her, his hands flying to her waist to steady her.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, rubbing his calloused thumbs on her sides. She nods. “Don’t need anything to eat? Maybe some bread, a piece of t-,” he says looking into her eyes.

She licks her lips and moves closer to him, “I’m okay, daddy. But I think…” She can feel herself turning red. “I think I had an accident,” she whispers. He recoils slightly, taking his hands away from her waist. She grabs his wrist and puts his hand between her legs. “I’m all wet,” she says, arranging her features into a portrait of distress. Haymitch groans on contact with her wet sex. 

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Daddy can help you with that,” he says, breathing hard. “In fact, only daddys can help you with that kind of wet.” The tips of his ears have gone pink and this blush might be the closest she’s ever seen him to embarrassed. “But you know you broke a rule earlier?” he says, resting his free hand on her hip. She cocks her head questioningly. “You know you have to knock before you come into daddy’s room.” He slowly draws his hand out from between her legs. “And any kind of rule breaking merits a punishment, don’t you think?” She nods, probably a little too enthusiastically for the scenario. He runs the backs of his fingers up her thigh, causing shivers to erupt in his wake. “I think you need a spanking.” Effie lets out a shuddering breath and nods quickly. 

She steps out from between his thighs and lays across his lap so that her ass is just above his cock. He pulls her nightgown up and over her hips and her panties down to her knees. “Are you ready, princess? Are you ready for me to spank you?” he asks, kneading her ass with his hot hands. Her head bobs in agreement and she wiggles against him. “Sure you don’t need a snack?”

Effie sighs, “Silly daddy, if I need a snack, I’ll tell you. Does daddy want a snack?” Maybe that’s what he’s trying to tell her. Maybe this is too much for him. She looks up over her shoulder at him. He shakes his head so she gives him a small smile. “I’m ready for my punishment, daddy.”

His fingers caress the cleavage between her cheeks and without any warning, he brings his hand down against her. Instead of centering his blow on the fat of her ass, he slaps right down the center so that his fingertips hit her labia and the blow radiates down into her slit. She bites her lip but a sharp cry escapes from around her teeth. He hits her again with the same results. She wishes she could reach down and touch her clit because it’s aching and nothing is relieving the pressure. 

“Is that enough? Have you learned your lesson?” he asks, his voice is thick with desire.

She shakes her head, “One more daddy because I was bad.”

He slaps her once and she jerks against him. Then he smacks her so hard that she screams. “The second one is for trying to tell daddy what to do,” he says. He drops his hand to her head and strokes her hair. “You understand, don’t you, sweetheart? Daddy makes the rules.” She nods in response, trying to stop her hips from grinding against his thigh. They stay like that for a minute, him touching her gently, before she becomes aware of his erection pressing against her hip.

She slides off of his lap so that she’s kneeling next to him. “Daddy, what’s that?” she asks, pointing at his erection, which is straining against the soft fabric of the boxers she bought him. He looks down at his lap and at her and then back at his lap. It’s almost comical how his eyes widen. She wonders if he hadn’t intended for her to touch him at all. He doesn’t say anything so she presses on, “Can I touch it?”

He takes in a gasping breath and nods, hooking his fingers on his boxers. She helps him slide them off his hips and down his legs. “Oh, no, Daddy! You’re all wet too,” she exclaims.

They both look at the pearls of moisture on his tip. When their eyes meet again, he swallows hard and looks embarrassed. She can’t help the bit of fondness that bubbles up in her heart. She remembers how reluctant he had been to express himself the first few times they were together. He didn’t even know the words for most of the positions and acts he wanted. She squeezes his thigh and asks, “Do you want me to clean it for you? Is it the kind of wet only good girls can help you with?” She tries to look wide-eyed and innocent for him.

He strokes her hair and says, “Yeah, baby. You can clean it for me.”

She moves between his legs and chews on her bottom lip. “What do I clean it with, Daddy? My hands?” she asks, looking up at him.

He grabs her chin and kisses her hard until they break apart panting. “Your mouth. Put your pretty little mouth on daddy’s cock,” he says with a groan.

“Is that what this is?” she traces her finger lightly over a throbbing vein. She steels herself before saying that vulgar word that he loves. “Is this your c-cock?”

He nods. “Yeah, baby. It’s my cock and it’s all for you. Lick it clean like a good girl.”

She giggles and takes him in her hand. She has always loved his cock. From the first time he groped her in the elevator, his semi rubbing against her, she’s been fascinated with it. With his thickness, with the sensitive skin around his head, with the way it reacts to her. Her nipples tighten painfully at the thought. She pumps him slowly and lowers her mouth to his head, making sure to keep eye contact. Her tongue darts out to taste his slit. “Yum, daddy!” she exclaims, licking quickly and lightly across his head.

“You gotta–fuck, Effie, feels so good–gotta get it nice and wet with your tongue like the cat does with his paws, sweetheart,” he pants.

She flattens her tongue and touches the tip of her tongue to the head of his cock, before slowly taking every inch of him into her mouth, rubbing her tongue from side to side against him. Then she draws back and presses wet kisses on the sides of his cock, letting her saliva drip down and flow into the indentation between his balls. She gives his balls a quick massage, rubbing the liquid into his skin as he moans above her. She tries very hard to ignore how the moan shoots to her aching core. She needs him so badly, and if previous encounters are any measure, he might not be able to get hard enough again to penetrate her tonight.

“It’s time to suck me clean, baby,” he says, threading his hand into her hair. “I’m going to help you do it right, okay?” He tugs her hair by the roots. She typically hates men guiding her head but she taught him right fairly early on by nipping hard on his tip when he tried to choke her with his cock. Ever since then, he’s been a very light hand. 

She presses her lips against him, humming in agreement. He curses at the sensation and his coarseness thrills her so much that she can feel her wetness start to run down her leg. She takes him into her mouth, pausing to swirl her tongue around his tip. Then she takes him deeper, bobbing her head slowly down his length between hollowed cheeks and pursed lips. He pulls her head gently towards him and she takes the last bit of him into her mouth. He hasn’t hit her gag yet but she’s already practically slobbering on his cock. He pulls her head back almost to the tip, then moves it forward. He thrusts the tiniest bit into her throat and cries out harshly. She lets him set the pace and tries to relax and let it be good for him. He picks up speed and she grabs his hip to steady herself. She massages his balls with her spare hand and runs her thumb across the sensitive skin behind them. 

“I’m going to come, Effie. I’m going to come in your pretty little fucking mouth,” he cries, as his ass twitches from the strain of trying not to thrust wildly into her face.

She hums in assent and he empties himself into her throat. She’s had just enough time to finish her breath before his hot, sticky semen pours down her throat into her stomach. She’s struck by the memory of being a girl and thinking that babies grew in your belly. If that were the case, there would be a little baby growing in her flat belly right now. She pulls him out of her mouth at that thought, her spit and his fluids running down his length and her chin and throat, thin strings connecting them. A baby with Haymitch? The thought frightens her and she resolves to have a pregnancy test when he’s gone from the Capitol. Birth control has been known to fail. She’s vaguely aware of Haymitch speaking to her, his words coming out in panting breaths as she tries to manage her anxiety. 

He’s flat on the bed, chest rising and falling erratically when she comes to sit cross legged next to him. The air in the room is cold against her throbbing sex. She runs one hand through his hair and strokes his chest with the other. He smiles at her and says, “Time to clean you up, sweetheart.”

He maneuvers her onto her hands and knees on the bed and honestly she’s a bit confused. He recovers rather slowly from sex and can’t possibly think that he’s ready to take her from behind. He starts kissing and licking her right above her knee, following the dried stream of wetness up to her lips. He sucks on her labia and suddenly the wetness is back and any thoughts of children, of their children, evaporate. One of his hands presses down on her lower back until she’s practically bent in two, and her knees are so far apart you’d need a hovercraft to traverse the space. “I’m going to clean you up, baby girl. I’m going to lick you clean so that I can make you feel real good. That’s what daddy’s going to do. Daddy’s going to make sure you feel real good,” he says, each breath rolling and teasing her swollen clit. 

She whimpers, “Please, Hay–Daddy.” He chuckles against her and she thrusts back into him so that her opening presses against his lips. He grabs her hips and plants an open mouthed kiss on her cunt. She’s reminded of the first kiss they shared. It had been hard and angry as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. His lips are the same on her opening. He sucks her juices into his mouth, making the loudest, most obscene noise she’ve ever heard. She lets out a sob and falls to her forearms, tangling her hands in her hair, pulling at her roots as if the pain will somehow counteract the pleasure.

But if anything, it makes the pleasure more intense. Every nerve in her body is vibrating, calling his name as he plunges his tongue into her opening. She thrusts back against him again and again, the muscles of her ass and her thighs quivering from the surfeit of sensations. He slides his left index finger over her clit–she knows it from the indented scar, which he got slipping through the fence that protects Twelve from the untamed wilderness–and she screams. He tries to say something but the content is lost and the only meaning she can derive is from the vibrations the words send inside her. 

He rolls her clit and she starts to beg, “Daddy, please. Daddy, please make me feel good. I want to feel good so badly, Daddy.” He takes his mouth away from her cunt and she’s about to protest when he plunges two fingers into her. She’s more than ready–she’s sopping and her cunt is begging for anything to hold on to. They pull his fingers into the rough spot inside of her and she keens when he pushes against her just there. He squeezes her clit between his index and middle finger. “I’m almost there, Daddy,” she pants. 

Suddenly, his hands are off of her and she’s ready to kill him. “Fuck, Haymitch, I finished you! You have to finish-,” he cuts her off by thrusting his hard dick inside of her. She’s honestly so surprised that he seems to have recovered so quickly that she doesn’t even move when he first thrusts into her. He slaps her ass and says, “That was a very bad word, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” she manages as he grabs her clit with the fingers of one hand and her hair in his other fist, taking her breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he thrusts hard into her, eliciting a wail, “Isn’t,” he thrusts again and starts rubbing her clit so hard that she sobs, “Fucking,” he snaps his hips hard against her, “Good enough.” She comes apart around him, sobbing and digging her nails into the forearm of the arm that’s holding her hair. She has no idea if he keeps moving in her until he’s done or not because her orgasm hits her so hard that she cries as she gushes around him and her cunt clamps down tight around him. 

She actually might have passed out because the next thing she’s aware of is being held in his arms in his bed. He’s telling her what a good girl she’s been and how much he enjoys playing with her. “Next time, princess, we’re going to play with your little clit. I ignored it too much today but next time, oh sweetheart, I’m going to show you some fun games. And maybe we’ll get dirty next time. How would you like it if daddy paints on your little tits? You’d like that a lot, wouldn’t you,” he’s just murmuring these dirty little thoughts into her hair and even though she’s sore from the sex, she feels a little twinge in her cunt.

“I’d like that a lot, Daddy. But I think that next time you have to punish me for saying bad words,” she replies.

He stiffens a little then says, “You don’t think I punished you enough?” She shakes her head. “What a good little girl. But it’s not just the bad words what else did you do wrong?” She twists in his arms and frowns at him. “Don’t frown at me girl, or that will go on the list too.”

She thinks back to what else she might have done. “I sa–I said your name?” she guesses.

“Good,” he coos. “That was a naughty thing to do. Because I’m not Haymitch to you. Who am I?”

She flushes. “You’re my daddy.”

He pulls her tight and gives her a squeeze. “That’s right, sweetheart, I’m your daddy.”


End file.
